


Oh, the dreadful wind and rain

by TelWoman



Category: English and Scottish Popular Ballads - Francis James Child, Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: Seriously dark!Dorian...Sorry!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 17:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelWoman/pseuds/TelWoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘One was dark and the other was fair.’ Just like Klaus and me. We would have been the most stunning couple.<br/>If only he had loved me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, the dreadful wind and rain

**Author's Note:**

> I went to an acoustic music club the other night, and two women were singing a great rendition of an old traditional song called “Two Sisters”. I sat in the dark with stories floating through my head, and this idea popped in.  
> Seriously dark!Dorian. Sorry.  
> Un-beta’d, so it’s all my fault.

_There were two sisters of county Clare,_  
 _Oh, the wind and rain_  
 _One was dark and the other was fair,_  
 _Oh, the dreadful wind and rain,_

 

‘One was dark and the other was fair.’ Just like Klaus and me. We would have been the most stunning couple. If only he'd loved me. 

I loved him, all those years. He knew I did. Stubborn, cold, heartless Klaus. For nearly ten years he was the centre of my existence. Until finally, I knew it had to end.

 

_And they both had a love of the miller's son,_  
 _Oh, the wind and rain_  
 _But he was fond of the fairer one,_  
 _Oh, the dreadful wind and rain_

 

Klaus wasn’t fond of anyone else. It might have been easier if he had been. Rivals can be dealt with. It wasn’t another man. Or even a woman. It was his work. His sense of duty. His work always came first. How do you compete with that?

 

_So she pushed her into the river to drown_  
 _Oh, the wind and rain_  
 _And watched her as she floated down_  
 _Oh, the dreadful wind and rain_

 

Of course, I didn’t push Klaus into a river to drown. No. A bullet at close range was much surer. Who would have thought the English faggot would shoot Iron Klaus? Everyone knew he couldn’t use a gun. Everyone knew he was too honourable to shoot a man as he lay sleeping. 

 

_And she floated till she came to the miller’s pond_  
 _Oh, the wind and rain_  
 _Dead on the water like a golden swan_  
 _Oh, the dreadful wind and rain_

 

Klaus looked innocent when he was asleep. That night, he wasn’t asleep any more, he was dead. He still looked innocent. With a wet red flower blooming at the side of his head.

 

_And she came to rest on the riverside_  
 _Oh, the wind and rain_  
 _And her bones were washed by the rolling tide_  
 _Oh, the dreadful wind and rain_

 

Nobody knew I’d been in Bonn that night. My boys all thought I was in Beirut, being wined and dined by old Bakchial. I’d left early, and come to Bonn. Once more, I’d told myself; just once more I’ll try to get through that iron-clad shell around his heart. It was no good. I realised as soon as I arrived, standing outside his apartment, he’d never let me in. 

It was his own gun. His magnum. He slept with it under his pillow. I took it out without waking him, and—

They never found his assassin. They never looked in the right place. 

 

_But the only tune that the fiddle could play was_  
 _Oh, the wind and rain_  
 _The only tune that the fiddle would play was_  
 _Oh, the dreadful wind and rain_


End file.
